The Evolution of Alex
by LittleMissWho
Summary: The story of Alexandra Drake's life, death, and after life told in five stages: Evan, Sam, Pete, Molly and Gene. From the death of her parents with Evan, to her life in the Railway Arms with Gene. Galex, obviously. Rated T. For now.
1. Evan

**_A/N: Hello, you lovely people. Sorry I have taken so long to write anything, life is hectic y'know. Hope you enjoy this, and please review. They make the chapters come a lot faster. It's been scientifically proven XD_**

**Evan**

Anyone who had ever seen Evan White with his god daughter could tell he was besotted with her. She filled the gaps in his life with love, colourful crayoned pictures, and very energetic games of tag. He was often rather shocked with himself when he found that the highlight of his day wasn't seeing his girlfriend, Louise, or sitting in a wine bar with his colleagues, contentedly taking the piss out of the world and the lesser mortals that inhabited it, but visiting the toy shop a couple of streets away from Tim and Caroline's house, spending half an hour deliberating over what to get her, before turning up as a surprise on the Price's doorstep, presenting her with his gift.

The pure, unconditional joy on her face when she saw him filled him with warm love and protectiveness for her every time he saw it. Caroline often tried to warn him off this, saying she would beome spoilt, but he paid little attention to her. At times, he felt rather angry at both her and Tim for taking for granted the one thing he wanted most in the world. They acted like paperwork was more important than her.

_More fool for them, _he often thought, the more they neglected her, the more time he got to spend with the most important person in his life.

* * *

"Alright there, monkey?" He asked, ruffling her hair as he laid down his newspaper on the kitchen table, and sat down next to her.

Alex nodded vigorously, not lifting her head from her drawing. He chuckled fondly as her tongue poked slightly out of her mouth, through her determination and effort. In that respect, she was certainly her mother's daughter.

"Can I see?" He poked his head next to hers, masses of dark blonde hair obscuring his vision of her work of art.

Alex drew her head up and smiled a gap-toothed grin at him, offering him the piece of paper.

From what he could make out, she had drawn a red balloon, floating diagonally through a dark blue sky, with very large clouds and stars surrounding it.

"A balloon? Why did you draw that, sweethart?" A pang of uncertainty swept through him, as he took a closer look. Should this mean something to him?

"That's the balloon I lost when your car got broken." Alex replied, innocently "I was dreaming about it last night."

Evan placed the picture back on the table with shaking hands, and exhaled sharply. _Get out, _he thought, _she doesn't need to see this._

He dashed up the stairs, closing the door firmly, before he slumped against the wall, body shaking with sobs.

Part of him was glad she didn't fully understand what had happened to her parents. Part of him wanted to tell her the truth, so that when he looked in the mirror, he would see himself instead of a liar.

When her parents died, he felt incredibly torn. And guilty. And rightly so, as he couldn't see any possible way that he hadn't been responsible for their deaths. If he hadn't been so stupid as to kiss Caroline back... If he hadn't let them borrow his car... If he'd thought with his brain instead of his balls... He had often wished he was Alex's father, instead of Tim, but he never would've done anything to separate them. Alex loved her parents more than anyone else, even if they weren't the best, or the most attentive.

Which is why he asked that police officer to break the tape. If Alex grew up knowing that her father had thought her old enough to die, he had no idea what it would do to her. If she would ever forgive him for the unintentional, but undeniable part he played in their deaths. And he loved her far, far too much to risk finding out.

After about half an hour of wallowing in his guilt, he heard a small knock at the door. "Evan?" Came a little, curious voice from through the keyhole.

Alex poked her head around the door, and gave a small gasp when she saw the state he was in. She came and sat next to him, wrapping her little arms around his waist, nestling her head into his shoulder.

"I'm sad about my balloon too, Evan," Alex told him in her little sing song voice, her big brown eyes filling with tears "It's my fault it got lost."

Evan cursed himself internally for being such a big girl's blouse, then pulled her closer to him, kissing her hair.

"Well, it's Saturday tomorrow, monkey. How about we go to the shops and get you another one?"

Alex sighed a little, "Does it have to be a red one? Mummy chose that one for me. I don't like red."

"No. You can choose whatever colour you like. And, if you're an especially good girl and get into your pyjamas now, I might just let you have two!"

Alex's face filled with delight, and she flung her arms round his neck, before speeding out of the room, towards her bedroom.

Evan chuckled, despite the fact his face was a tear stained mess, and followed her through. His new life was not one ideally suited to a single man in his late twenties, but it was the only life he wanted to live.

And if Alex Price was destined to grow up to be a strong, stubborn and brilliant woman like her mother, then by god, he was going to make sure that was what happened.

**_Sorry, I'm not one of those people who think Evan is the root of all evil. The next chapter is about Sam, and should be up ASAP. Review s'il vous plait!_**


	2. Sam

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Hope you all enjoy, and please review. Next chapter should hopefully be up a bit sooner.**

**

* * *

**_**Chapter 2: Sam**_

"Have you got everything you need Alex?"

"Yes, Evan."

"Is your tie straight?"

"_Yes _Evan."

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Oh my god. YES EVAN. Now please, stop flapping!"

Evan had been very reluctant to send Alex to boarding school. Not just because he would miss her terribly, or that this particular one was just outside Manchester, but because she had spent most of her childhood away at school, and he'd always thought she would resent him for suggesting it. However, as this one was one of the best in the country, and Alex seemed very keen to go, he was in no position to deny her.

He caught a skinny little boy with mousy brown hair staring at Alex, and gave him a look that would wither flowers.

"Alright then, monkey. This is it."

Alex bit her lip, nervously, and nodded. "You will come and get me at the end of term, won't you?"

"Of course. You just call me and I'll come sooner. And stay away from those boys. I just caught one of them staring at you."

Alex frowned, and picked up her bags, scanning the courtyard. She caught the same boy staring at her, and marched towards him, shouting "Bye Evan!" over her shoulder.

Evan chuckled, feeling slightly sorry for the boy, and turned to leave.

"You're not from round here, are you?" Asked the boy, as she approached.

"Well spotted!" She sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Where then?"

"London. Now please, stop gawking. My godfather was about to pummel you."

His eyebrows rose in surprise "Is he not your dad then?"

"I think you should stop asking me questions." Alex replied, hurt ebbing into her voice.

He smiled, sympathetically "My dad's gone too. They're pretty useless, aren't they?"

His smile vanished when he saw the angry look on her face.

"My dad did not _choose _to leave. Nor did my mum. Now stop staring at me, and stop asking me stupid questions."

She stomped off, only to find him skipping to her side moments later.

"Do you know where anything is?" He asked, rather annoyingly, she thought.

"Yes. I memorised the map before I got here."

"Bollocks. You're walking towards the toilet block. Come on, I'll help you find your classroom." He took her arm and towed her in the opposite direction.

* * *

Shortly after that day, Alex Price and Sam Tyler were joined by the hip, much to the confusion and surprise of everyone else, including Alex. Nobody could fathom how a posh, pretty and very articulate little girl, and a rather mysterious, quiet little boy who seemed to walk around with his head in the clouds could have anything in common, or be so taken with eachother. There was a rumour that there was a spark of attraction between them, but when Alex heard this, she had marched straight up to its perpetrators and yelled "_**I would rather shag chewbacca's foot!**_" rather loudly. Sam had then, rather reluctantly, restrained her from walloping them over the head.

The truth was, although they had hardly anything in common, except a progressive view on modern policing, buckets of self-belief and a strong hatred of being proved wrong, these characteristics were strong enough to make them compatible.

After finishing at their respective universities, they eventually did join the police force and found themselves paired together on numerous investigations because they sparred off each other so well, Sam would want to do everything 'by the book', whereas Alex, being a maverick, would often tell him to shove the book up his arse, and do things her way.

They knew that one day they would have to go separate ways, but neither of them liked to think about that. For a long time, it seemed almost impossible to imagine.

* * *

The incessant ringing of her phone drew Alex Drake from her sleep. _Whoever they are, they'd better prepare themselves for a roasting, _she thought angrily to herself, glancing at the ridiculously early time.

"DI Drake?" She grumbled into the receiver.

"Alex?" Came a gruff, deeply regretful voice from the other end "Chief Constable McMillan here."

Alex sat bolt upright. Mark McMillan had been Sam's Chief Constable ever since he had transferred to Manchester to look after his mother, and had been trying to persuade her to transfer back to GMP ever since. However, this seemed a rather unlikely hour for him to be bothering her with another offer of promotion.

"Hello, sir. Err… What can I do for you?" Her stomach flipped as she noted that he sounded completely out of character, worn down and defeated, instead of his usual larger than life self.

"Oh Christ. You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?" Nerves were starting to gnaw away at Alex's stomach.

He hesitated before proceeding. "Alex, I'm loathed to have to be the one to tell you this. DCI Tyler was involved in a car accident this evening. I tried to get one of my officers to contact you immediately, but the useless bastard obviously couldn't be bothered."

She was hit, suddenly with an awful dizzying numbness. _No, no, not Sam. Please, not Sam..._

"I-Iss… he dead?" She managed to stutter.

"No, Alex, but he's in an unstable, deep coma in ICU. He's touch and go at this stage. It would be great if you could get here soon. Ruth Tyler has been asking for you rather insistently."

_Oh god, Ruth,_ her heart filled with sympathy and grief as she thought of Sam's poor mother.

"Of course, sir. I'll… Oh bugger." Alex felt everything come to a halt as she remembered where she was. Guilt and regret swept through her. "I'm sorry, sir, I can't. My little girl is in hospital. She's got a rather serious case of scarlet fever. I can't leave her."

McMillan exhaled sharply "Christ, Alex. I'm so sorry. Of course you can't leave her."

"You will call me immediately, sir, If there's any news?" Alex's voice was rather desperate, as she furiously blinked away her shocked tears.

"Of course. You'll be the first I call. You get some rest now, Alex. I have DC's to clout over the head."

Alex managed to mutter "Thank-you, sir" into the receiver before cutting off, her body losing all motion with the exception of the uncontrollable, pain ridden sobs that now shook her insistently.

This was going to be a very long night.

* * *

The painful numbness that the news of Sam's accident had brought stayed with her over the next few days.

Every time she saw her little girl lying limp on her hospital bed, tubes protruding from her nose, her faint heartbeat being echoed by a horrible machine, she knew she was in the right place.

However, this didn't stop the enormous pang of guilt and despair that swept through her every time she thought of her best friend, in an even more life threatening condition than Molly's, with his poor mother holding his hand, begging him to wake up, because she had nobody else in this world.

She wasn't wonder woman. She couldn't be in two places at once. Molly would always be her priority.

She stared at her phone, silently begging it to ring, hoping that any news of Sam might make the numbness stop. How it was possible to feel so isolated, in such a busy place baffled her. Nurses came to tell her how well Molly was doing, she felt pleased, but not as overjoyed as she should've. She was far too distracted.

"Excuse me, Inspector, I'll have to ask you to turn off your phone." One of Molly's nurses dragged her out of her daze, rubbing her back sympathetically.

Alex blinked in surprise "But I'm waiting for some news-"

"I'm sure the Chief Constable will ring as soon as there's any news. Your friend's in a stable condition. The odds are he'll be fine."

Alex ran her hands over her face, contemplating the ultimatum.

"How long will she be under for?"

"Only a few days. And the sister feels it would be best if you stayed with her at all times. She'll want you to be there when she's coming round.

Alex nodded, reluctantly pressing the off button, whilst silently praying to a god she had never believed in that nothing bad would happen to Sam.

* * *

Four tediously long days later, after many tearful rants at the hospital staff, Molly Drake sitting cross legged on her bed, impatiently ordering nurses to go and find her mother, so that she could go home. Alex hadn't left her bedside once, only eating and drinking the rather poor food the nurses had provided her with, sleeping fitfully with her head on Molly's lap.

When the nurses had finally deemed Molly strong enough to be without her mother, she had almost snogged them all in joy, planting a quick kiss on her daughter's forehead, before dashing out of the hospital, attracting curious glances from everyone she passed.

Parking herself on a bench in a small communal garden just outside the hospital, she winced slightly in anticipation before letting the screen flicker in to life.

Butterflies rose in her stomach. Her voicemail box was full. Her text inbox was full. She'd received one hundred and fifty six missed calls.

_No, no, no... please, not Sam._

A sudden high pitched ringing broke her from her nervous reverie.

"Hello? Sir, is that you?" She asked, holding the phone slightly away from her ear.

"No... no. Hi Lexi, love."

Alex couldn't help but smile as she heard what was unmistakably Ruth Tyler's voice.

"Ruth? How are you? How's Sam?" Alex gushed down the phone. For the first time in her life, she was having trouble speaking coherent English.

"Well… he woke up," Alex's heart surged with joy "and then… he…" Ruth started crying on the other end of the line.

"Ruth? What happened? What did he do?" Nerves drove her to her feet, sending her pacing back and forwards, frantically.

"I'm sorry, love… He jumped off…" Ruth sobbed again before continuing "He jumped off a building. He's… d-dead."

Her phone fell from her hand as the nauseating numbness within her became overwhelming, making her head too foggy for thoughts or feelings. The fog filtered over her eyes, filling her with a sickening gladness that she was being isolated from the world, and not plunged into it's terrible reality just yet.

The last thing Alex Drake could do was let out a small whimper, before her legs buckled beneath her, and she fell into a darkness, far kinder than the world she'd been in before.


	3. Pete

**A/N: Sorry again for the delay. Writers block is a bastard. Here is an extra long chapter to make up for me being a tard. Enjoy, and please tell me what you think. Everytime you review a story, your life gets a year longer. Teehee.**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Pete**

Cambridge University had to be one of the most intimidating places Alex had ever been in her life. Within ten minutes of her arrival, she'd been hugged, had her hand shaken, hair ruffled and introduced to a variety of characters, with painfully snobbish names (Horatio and Sylvester were among the ones she could remember). She'd always been regarded as 'the posh one' by her friends, but these people took it to a new extreme. Her accent was the only characteristic she could possibly fathom having in common with any of them.

Her thoughts strayed longingly to Sam, her level headed best friend, who had recently enrolled at a university in Leeds. She'd been all set to join him, until Evan had stepped in. Bloody Evan. Taking her aside, he'd given her a murmured lecture on how Oxbridge had been in her family for generations, and how her parents would turn in their graves if she didn't follow suit. If Alex's skin hadn't been crawling at how snooty he sounded, she would've reminded him her parents weren't in graves. Something that he often chose to 'conveniently forget'.

After what seemed hours, she'd finally managed to escape the wrath of the toffs, hastily hiding herself in what she hoped were the ladies toilets. She let out a loud sigh of relief, sinking down against the wall, rubbing her temples in a vain attempt to calm herself.

"Umm... Excuse me?"

Her stomach flipped as an unmistakably male voice dragged her from her thoughts. She drew her head up to see a tall, brown haired boy staring down at her, questioningly. His eyes widened a little as he saw her face.

"I'm in the gents toilets, aren't I?" Alex groaned internally. Was there no escape?

"Afraid so."

"Bugger."

He smiled kindly at her and offered her a hand up. She took it, uncertainly. He didn't seem as hoity toity as the rest of them.

"Well... thanks." Alex nodded at him, before hastily backing out of the doorway.

She'd not been walking thirty seconds, before one of her bags had become significantly lighter, and she found herself walking side by side with the 'toilet guy'. Why did she always seem to attract male followers in new places?

"Bloody hell, your bags are heavy." He grimaced as he tossed a bulging rucksack over his shoulder.

She tried, and failed, to suppress a grin. "Well... you could always give it back."

"Nope. You need to show me where you're staying so I can pick you up."

Alex raised an eyebrow at him, inquisitively.

"There's an amazing Indian restaurant a couple of streets away from here. The food's so good, you'll want to marry me."

She snorted, still smiling "That's a bit presumptuous. I don't usually go out with men I meet in toilets."

"Well, that makes two of us. Since you are the first _woman_ I have ever met in a toilet, I'm pretty confident it's a sign." He took a long look at her as she studied her campus map, not believing his luck.

They walked through the building together, dragging Alex's bags along behind them. He hadn't known her for more than ten minutes, but already he seemed to find her inability to read a map very funny. Something she would've usually found annoying, but seemed to find strangely endearing in this instance.

Eventually, they had managed to find the right floor.

She nodded at a door. "Well... this is me. It was nice to meet you..."

"Pete. And you?"

"Alex."

"Lovely. It suits you." He smiled enigmatically at her, placing her bag on the floor next to her. "I'll pick you up at eight."

Alex opened her mouth to protest, but he'd turned and strode off before she had the chance.

* * *

Pete was as good as his word, and turned up at eight o'clock on the dot, taking her to a tiny Indian Restaurant in the heart of Cambridge, run by a big, happy man and his wife. The food wasn't that brilliant, but he distracted her enough for her not to notice. The evening mainly consisted of him spoon feeding her overly spicy food, interrogating her about her likes and dislikes and trying to ward off the over-complimentary manager, Rajiv, who made no attempt to hide his joy over the fact that his best customer had a beautiful woman with him.

After that night, things seemed to fall into place for Alex. University became a lot less intimidating, she struck up close friendships with the girls she was living with, and any over confident buffoon who tried to make a move on her was instantly pummelled by her rather protective boyfriend, who was a good head taller, and considerably stronger than most of the Hugo's and Henry's that tried their luck. Pete's jealousy began to irk her slightly when she started to tell him about Sam, but she let it slide. She was in a strong, happy relationship with a man that made no attempt to hide the fact he loved her a lot. That was more than most people got.

Evan was over the moon when Alex introduced her boyfriend, the law student. He'd always been worried that she would meet someone at school and end up living in a grotty semi in Manchester, so the fact that she seemed to be rather deeply in love with someone with equally bright prospects, who seemed to have common sense in abundance set his mind at rest. He had done his job of raising her well. Sam and Pete, on the other hand, did not hit it off, shaking hands and nodding awkwardly at eachother. Pete found the fact that Alex was so close to another man unsettling, and Sam found Pete arrogant and a bit of an arse hole, for want of a better word. The fact was, although Pete was undoubtedly an arse hole, he was also obviously in love with his best friend, which stopped him from saying anything to her. Sam only hoped that in time, she would knock that out of him.

On their final day of university, Pete had dragged Alex off to Rajiv's for a slap up meal, instead of joining their friends at some god forsaken pub to get pissed. It took quite a lot of persuasion to get Alex to turn down a night of champagne and partying, but Pete's adamance got the better of her. He usually relented when she promised to make it up to him later, but in this instance he hadn't budged.

After eating their way through two rather spicy curries and countless onion bhajis, he had managed to stop Alex asking him questions, and had relaxed her enough so that she was now resting her head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her waist, both of them laughing as Rajiv pretended not to be watching them.

"I love you, Lexie." He muttered into her hair, nuzzling her ear.

She smiled into his shoulder "Right back at you."

She hadn't clocked him yet. "I'm never going to want anyone else." He whispered again, withdrawing one arm from her waist, placing a hand in his pocket in readiness.

She smiled again, still not suspecting anything "Me neither. No worries on that score."

His heart filled with hope. "Right then, in that case, I think you'd better have this."

Alex raised her head from his shoulder as she felt something cool and metallic being slid down her ring finger.

"Pete...?"

He was beaming at her. "It fits."

Alex stared down at her hand, a beautiful emerald green stone staring back at her. Her face became a mask of surprise.

"Alex... Will you ma-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Alex had tugged on his collar, pulling his lips down to meet hers. Rajiv and his waiters, unable to contain themselves, all errupted in to cheers, rushing over to their table, causing them both to smile into the kiss, eventually breaking it off. Pete drew Alex into his chest, hugging her tightly.

"I'll take that as a yes, then?" He muttered into her hair.

He heard something along the lines of 'smart arse' being murmured into his chest, before Alex was pulled away by Rajiv, kissing her on both cheeks, a gushing stream of congratulations echoing around the room.

* * *

It had all seemed so perfect, neither of them had ever dreamt anything could go wrong. They both knew of divorce, knew people who had been through it, but had never imagined that anything would be able to separate them, or stop them loving eachother. Pete found that part especially hard to imagine. It was like trying to imagine the world without a sky.

They were married three months after Pete's proposal, in a small church ceremony with thirty members of their closest friends and family. Alex had looked stunning, in a simple white lace dress, her long chocolate hair hanging in loose curls. Yet again, he'd barely been able to believe his luck. The whole day seemed so perfect, neither of them could believe it was real. The ceremony lead into a reception at a nearby hotel, where sentimental speeches were exchanged, everybody danced terribly and got suitably drunk. The perfectness continued.

At the end of the reception, Pete bundled Alex into the back of a taxi, and they sped off to Gatwick airport, arriving just in time to catch the last plane of the day, heading for the Naples. The next few hours were spent with Alex sleeping with her head on Pete's lap, flying, then driving until they finally reached their hotel on the edge of the Amalfi Coast at the crack of dawn. He lay his sleeping wife down on the bed, chuckling. So much for a romantic first night as a married couple. She'd have to make that up to him later. He sank down on the bed next to her, fully clothed, and pulled her into his chest. He was alseep within five minutes.

When they both finally woke, fourteen hours later, Alex 'made up' for falling asleep on their wedding night three times, before they both charged down to the hotel's kitchen, ravenous. Ordering everything off the breakfast menu, they silently stuffed food down their necks until they were both full to burst. They spent the rest of the day walking along the beach, Pete marvelling at the way the sun illuminated Alex. He put his soppiness down to jet lag.

The next few days passed in a blissful procession of sleep, food, beach walks, sex and sea water. The perfect honeymoon. They both had to come back down to earth at some point.

Pete walked into their bedroom to find Alex staring at the floor, looking slightly dazed. Something turned in the pit of his stomach.

"Lex? You alright?"

Alex looked up at him with a mixture of hope and fear in her eyes. "I'm late."

Yet again, they weren't on the same page. "For what? It's not dinner until... Oh." He flopped down on he bed, next to her. "Bloody hell."

They hadn't discussed having kids. Alex was 20, Pete a few years older. Parenthood hadn't even crossed their minds.

"Are you sure?" He asked in a quiet voice, more than slightly stunned.

Alex inclined her head towards an object on the bed. He looked in the pointed direction, and a thin blue line stared back at him.

"Jesus Christ." He inhaled sharply.

Alex looked at him questioningly. "Pete?"

She looked so vulnerable and confused, it broke his heart. He wrapped his arms around her waist, her head resting on his shoulder in their familiar position. "What d'you want to do, Lex? You've just started at the Met. We're so bloody young."

Alex nodded, sighing. "But we can't get rid of it, Pete. We're financially stable, happily married. There's no reason for us not to have this baby."

"Alex, we could-"

"No, Pete. I want this baby."

He opened his mouth to argue back, but the look on her face suggested that any attempt to change her mind would be completely wasted. In truth, he had no idea hoe he would've dissuaded her. He had no idea how he was supposed to love another human being as much as he loved Alex. He'd never been good with kids, never babysat or changed a nappy in his life and had certainly never felt a burning desire to have his own offspring.

But if Alex wanted the baby, she was going to have the baby.

* * *

When the baby came, it was as Pete feared. Alex had told him he would fall in love with it at first sight. He didn't. He saw the look of elation on Alex's face as she held the little gurgling bundle in her arms, and his heart leapt at how happy she looked. The baby to him, however, was a wailing, hairless, blob of flesh. His paternal instinct definitely hadn't kicked in. He had no idea how to hold it, how to stop it crying and saw no appeal in being near it whatsoever.

Alex eventually noticed that the baby hadn't made the same impact on him as it had on everyone else. The fact that he referred to it as 'it' or 'the baby', instead of 'Molly' made her insides churn. She made obvious efforts to bring them closer, leaving them together whilst she went to work, encouraging him to take her out in her pram. Pete would withdraw to their bedroom, trying to focus his mind on his latest literary venture instead of facing the blankness that he felt when he thought of the wailing creature in the cot that was slowly driving a wedge between him and Alex. His lack of parental responsibility increasingly frustrated her, and she found herself resenting him increasingly as it became apparent that whilst she went out and worked, as well as looking after their baby the whole time, Pete sat in bed and felt sorry for himself.

After a while, Alex decided she had given up on Pete. Where he had once been reliable and loving, he was now completely self centred and obnoxious. Every conversation she had with him ended in him ranting and raving at her about how she loved the baby more than him, never spent time with him anymore, never took any interest in him anymore. He sounded increasingly like a petulant five year old, demanding attention from his mother.

Things gradually became worse and worse, until one day, they snapped.

Alex let herself into their flat after a long day at work, to the familiar sound of Molly crying. Pete had obviously not deemed it necessary to change her nappy.

"Pete?" She shouted from the hallway "I'm home!"

She wandered into Molly's bedroom, scooping her up from her cot, into her arms. Making shushing noises into the little girl's hair, Alex smiled as the cries began to subside, walking her into the main bedroom. Frowning a little at how empty it seemed, she laid Molly down on the bed.

Lying next to Molly on the bed, was a yellow-white envelope addressed to Alex. Picking it up with shaking hands, she tore it open and began to read the letter inside.

_Lexie,_

_I have no idea what we've been doing for the past six months, but to call what we have a 'marriage' would be  
a bloody joke. Whilst I'm still in love with you, you are quite obviously engrossed with the sprog, and I'm not  
prepared to spend my life waiting for you to pay me some attention. I think-_

Alex couldn't read anymore and began frantically tearing the letter into tiny pieces, tears streaming down her cheeks. She sunk to the floor, sobs shaking her body, as the reality of the past six months crashed down around her. She cried for herself, because she was now without a husband, she cried for Pete, because he had turned into such a selfish bastard, but mainly, she cried for Molly. Having always wanted to give her daughter the perfect family life she'd never had, and then having that chance taken away from her was absolutely devastating.

She had no idea whether she'd still been in love with Pete before reading the letter, but that didn't matter. Now, the only emotion that became apparent when she thought of him was disgust and shame to have ever been married or associated with him.

Grabbing the phone, she dialled the number of the one person she always called when she had a problem. When he answered, a small sense of relief washed over her.

"Sam... It's Pete. He's left me."

* * *

**No, you're right. I don't like Pete. Does Anyone? Galex coming soon. Thanks for reading.**


	4. Molly

**_A/N: Sorry about the delay, readers. Christmas froze my brain, and it's only just defrosted. Enjoy, and please review. I luurve hearing what you think. It makes all this university coursework bearable._**

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**Chapter 4: Molly**

Molly Drake was a piece of work. Nobody who'd held a conversation with her for more than half a minute had any doubts on that score.

She'd inherited her mother's cool self assurance and her capacity for learning, reasoning, understanding, and similar forms of mental activity, along with her father's relentless stubbornness and piercing gaze (something she'd flatly refused to believe, not being able to abide comparisons between her and her father). This put anyone on the wrong side of one of her arguments in a rather formidable position.

Usually.

Today, she was unbelievably quiet, a shocked, almost disbelieving expression etched on her face, as if she still hadn't processed the news.

She would've looked completely frozen in that bleak, white hospital room if it hadn't been for her trembling bottom lip, or the tears that were slowly escaping her eyes. Her small, pen marked hands were clasped tightly around a long, slender one, belonging to the occupant of the bed. Her mother.

Even in deep a state of deep unconsciousness, with an odd shaped scar on the far left of her forehead, her mum managed to look beautiful. If it hadn't been for their unattractive surroundings, she could've been mistaken for Snow White. However, the frozen, pale beauty that lay on the bed was not the kind Molly wanted to see. She wanted warm almond shaped eyes, that were too hazel to be green, and too green to be hazel. She wanted the dazzling pearly white, heart shape-lipped, double dimpled smile, which made those eyes sparkle and turned men to putty. They'd always giggled about how jelly brained men turned when she flashed one of those, happily recollecting how, once, it'd gotten them on the London Eye, free of charge.

Molly had always assumed that her mother would see her through her childhood. Until a few days ago, her visions of the future had involved them stumbling through her Latin GSCE coursework, Alex doing most of the work whilst she tried text her friends under the table. Dragging her Mum back to John Lewis, because she certainly _did _need the ridiculously expensive, blue floaty dress with the strappy shoulders, and she was jolly well going to have it.

It was unbelievable how things could change in twenty four hours. Even for a thirteen year old girl. Her whole outlook on life had changed, removing all her grumpy stubbornness with a slightly maddening desperation. All the things she'd thought were important, seemed completely stupid.

She would've happily thrown her phone down the toilet, and donated her whole wardrobe to Oxfam if there was the slightest possibility of it changing anything.

The only thing she wanted was her Mummy back.

She sniffed back a sob, tightening her grip on Alex's hand, cornflower blue eyes staring intently at the pale, perfect pace.

"Mummy? Please wake up." She sounded pathetic, her voice coming out as barely more than a croak.

For a second, she genuinely expected something to happen. As if her plea would suddenly clear the fog in her mother's head, and she'd sit up, beaming, slender but strong arms engulfing her in a protective embrace.

When nothing happened, she continued.

"Please, Mummy? I need you. You still haven't shown me how to do a French plait. Or told me off for forgetting to do my Spanish homework."

She waited again for a miracle. Nothing happened.

"_Come on Mummy!_" she wailed "You can't leave me with Evan! He's an old man! It's not fair! I want _you!"_

What followed was a procession of wails, rants, screams, tears and sobbing, as Molly attempted to revive her mother from her coma.

She begged, threatened, cried and pleaded with her. She made Evan promise to cook her Shepherds Pie every night for the rest of her life. Her friends and visitors were made promise her piggybacks to work and extended holidays. Her favourite song, _Piano Man, _by Billy Joel was played repetitively, and so loudly, that people from neighbouring wards made complaints.

It broke everyone's hearts to see this little girl fighting so hard for what she refused to believe was a losing battle.

Molly didn't believe her mother could leave her. It wouldn't be fair.

* * *

Four hours later, Alex Drake was gone. It had all been for nothing.

Staff had worked all through the night, trying anything and everything to maintain the stability of her position. All to no avail. Everyone who saw or heard of the turn of events thought the same.

_What a bloody waste. _

In a small, clinical waiting room, a few meters away from where her mother had spent her last moments, the news was broken to Molly. The course of her life was changed dramatically and devastatingly, all her plans and hopes shattering before her eyes.

She learned something that day, her mother had learned when she was eight years old. Something that no child should be forced to acknowledge. Something that, in an ideal world, would've been slowly taught to her, instead of sprung upon her.

_Life isn't fair._

* * *

**_Apologies for the shortness of this chapter. And any mistakes, as it is totally un beta-ed. I am rather impatient to get to the galex, which is coming up next. Thanks again for reading. Please review._**


	5. Gene

**I would like to apologize profusely for being so rubbish with updating this. If only Gene would bang up writers block aswell...**

**Chapter 5: Gene**

"Gene?"

"Mmmm... five more minutes, Bolly..."

"Gene?"

He chose not to respond this time.

"GENE!"

Gene Hunt let out a small groan as a rectangular, squishy object collided with the back of his head, rousing him from dreaming about last night.

"What now, woman?" He tried, and failed to suppress a grin as he opened his eyes to a gorgeously rumpled, if slightly pissed off, Alex.

"Well, since I couldn't dislodge myself from underneath your sleeping form, I was wondering whether you would be kind enough to get off me. I have to be at my mother's in ten minutes!"

He was suddenly aware that he had one leg wrapped around both of hers, and both arms round her waist, pinning her to his chest.

"Mmm... I don't know 'lex..." He murmured, grinning slyly, tightening his grip on her waist "I'm quite comfy..." He kissed a trail down her neck to the base of her throat.

"Gene... mmm... gonna be late..."

Ignoring her protests, he pushed her onto her back, kissing the familiar route down her stomach to his favourite place in the world, only being hindered slightly by her feeble mock protests.

"Bolly." He paused his attentions, looking directly into her slightly disappointed eyes "You really don't have to say anything now, unless it's my name. That harpie can bloody well wait until I've finished with you."

Alex opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off as Gene returned to doing what he did best.

"Oh... Gene..."

* * *

Almost an hour later, shortly after Gene had finally let Alex hobble off to visit her irritating mother, he found himself in bed, thinking. Not something he did very often.

The brilliance and sheer happiness of his new life hadn't really sunk in yet, even though it'd been well over a year since he'd finally had the courage to walk through the door. He'd been afraid that a slap, or even more painful, a rejection might have awaited him, and had been overjoyed to find only happiness and relief at his arrival. On seeing her smile, he had practically jumped on her, kissing her enthusiastically until they were out of breath, then pulling her tightly into his chest as she cried happy tears, and he tried not to.

Two years of his world without her had weakened his resolve considerably. As soon as the pub door had shut behind her, after that bittersweet peck on the lips, he felt like the biggest prat in existence. One of his top priorities, now that he had gotten over himself, was to show her how important she was to him, and kiss her like he meant it (which he bloody well did). Two years of regret had not been fun. And, of course, he told her too. He didn't give a shit what Ray thought anymore, he had a lot to make up for.

Of course, it hadn't all been plain sailing. He'd had to get over her friendship with Tyler, which he'd found rather too close for his liking. He couldn't work out which Tyler he was more jealous of, as they all seemed rather taken with eachother. However, since the evening a rather drunken Alex had stood up and announced to the pub that she thought Sam looked like a squirrel, he'd let that one slide.

The only other slight obstacle had been her mother. He had almost swallowed his tongue when he had found out who she and Alex both were, and although it had made him fiercely proud that his Little Lady had turned into such a brilliant woman, it did not improve relations with her mother, who couldn't fathom why he had taken such an instant disliking to her. However, she had promptly followed suit.

Alex's father was being spit roast somewhere in a darkened room along with Keats. He hoped.

Apart from all this, his lifestyle had consisted of being in bed with Alex, drinking with his team, annoying Tyler, sorting out the criminal scum of the lower realms and being pretty bloody happy. He was a rather jammy bastard, all things considered.

* * *

The phone on their bedside table rang, interrupting his afternoon nap, and he picked it up ready to give whoever was on the other end the third degree.

"WHAT?"

"Well, hello to you too..." A rather gorgeous, posh voice mocked him from the other end.

"You woke me up." He stated, trying to sound grumpy, although the corners of his mouth were already curling upwards.

"I was just wondering whether you were coming down for a drink. One of your dickhead DS's just tried coming on to me again."

He sat stark upright, fists already curled "Edwards?"

"Yup."

"I'll be there in five minutes."

He could tell she was smiling.

"Okay, love you."

He grinned. He'd never get tired of hearing that. Soft bastard.

"Love you too, Mrs Hunt."

**That's all folks :) Hope you liked my crafty little ending, reviews would be very much appreciated.**


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